The Siren's Song
by xbreathlessx
Summary: When the Opera Populaire is opened 2 years after it burned to the ground, Christine finds herself commissioned as its Diva once again. Will she be able to amend her past mistakes, or will history repeat itself again? Rating will likely change.
1. Derailment

Chapter I – Derailment

* * *

Christine was vaguely aware that it was past the socially acceptable time to still be in bed. She was even more aware of the fact that she didn't care. In fact, she was feeling rather rebellious, and was lingering in the large ocean of goose-feather filled blankets on purpose. She rolled from her back to her side, staring at the window, disappointed that she couldn't see outside due to the drawn curtains.

_I hate that shade of green_. She thought as she stared at the deep velvet. In fact, there was very little she did like in regards to her bedroom. It was decorated impeccably, from the lush cream colored carpet, to the foresty green wallpaper with its delicate vine pattern, adorned with real gold flecks. The furniture was all top of the line as well, although Christine could care less that it was made from young cedar cut just at the right time of year and stained white just as the right time. It was all wrong. She shouldn't be sleeping in this bed. She shouldn't be anywhere near this bed.

She groaned and rubbed some sleep from her eyes, catching the heavy stone ring on her third finger. Had there been a time she used to look at it and hold such hope as to what it would bring? She could remember when it felt more like a blessing instead of a prison sentence. Had it really been two years since her life had changed so dramatically?

She sighed. Two years to the day since her whole world shifted. Since she had exposed her former Angel in front of half of Paris' richest and most elite, since she had been forced to deal with the worst deceit she could remember, then perform her own act to rival it.

A light knock at the door pulled Christine from her memories, and not a moment too soon. "Yes?"

The door opened slowly and a servant whose name Christine had long forgotten stepped in. "Mademoiselle Daae, the Viscount de Chagny is here to see you."

Christine sighed. Of course he was. They always had breakfast together. Usually she was up long before he called though. "Please tell him I will be down shortly." As soon as the girl left her room, Christine dragged herself out of bed and made her way over to her wardrobe. In the beginning, she had let the help assist her in her dressing, but she found it awkward and strange, and finally did away with it. She was not a noble woman, she had grown up dressing herself, and she intended to continue to do so. Since she was in such a foul mood, Christine picked up a dark purple dress with long sleeves and minimal lace. It was January, so the color was not all together out of fashion, although it was a bit heavy for breakfast. Christine decided she didn't care.

* * *

Raoul de Chagny paced a little impatiently in the waiting room, much to the amusement of the middle aged woman sitting comfortably on a tan leather settee. "Oh honestly, you are not such the puppy dog you appear to be?"

Raoul stopped pacing and turned to look at the woman, his blue eyes finding nearly identical ones. "Patricia, you are my favorite sister, but please, do not tease me this morning..."

"Then do not be so easy to tease..." She chided as she smoothed some of her blonde hair back away from her face and studied her younger brother. It was nearly sad. His _fiance_ was five minutes late coming down the stairs and he assumed the worst. Would there ever be a day when they felt confident in each other's loyalty?

The whole engagement was rather unsettling, she did have to admit. It had been two years now since Raoul had showed up with a scared Christine clinging to his arm. He explained the situation; how he had planned to capture the 'Phantom' with some elaborate plan involving Christine, but it had backfired and not only had they not captured this man, but many people had been injured, a handful killed, and the Opera Populaire had been ruined, leaving Christine petrified and homeless. Society demanded that Christine could not live with Raoul, a single man, and since Patricia's husband had left her a childless widow years ago, would she mind taking Christine in until they were married? Of course she had said she would happily take Christine in, Raoul was her baby brother, and the girl was in a horrible state. How was she to know that their engagement would last two years? Patricia was nearing forty, she was long past the silly games that lovers played, and she could see signs that her naive brother seemed to disregard.

"Ah, there is my sleepy Lotte!" Raoul's happy greeting brought Patricia back to the present and she placed a warm smile on her face and rose to greet Christine as well.

"Good morning! I believe you have slept through what most consider breakfast, so I will go let Cook now to prepare you both a light brunch." Patricia said as she walked over and kissed both of Christine's cheeks, silently noticing the somber colored dress the girl was wearing, and exited the room.

Christine felt a little blush rise to her cheeks, had she really stalled in bed so late? She glanced up at the mantle clock, it _was_ nearing eleven...

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting..." Christine murmured as soon as Patricia had left the room.

Raoul shook his head and came to embrace his fiance, "Think nothing of it. Did you have trouble sleeping or were you just feeling lazy?"

Christine wrapped her arms around Raoul's solid middle and rested her head gently across his chest, "I slept well, for the most part." There were no notable nightmares, like there had been for so long, but she would hardly consider her sleep restful.

"Hopefully soon I will be there to languish in bed with you then mon chéri endormi." Raoul whispered as he placed a chaste kiss on top of her curls.

Christine pretended not to hear his statement. She knew the long engagement was starting to test Raoul's seemingly endless patience, but when she thought of marrying him, a cold fist of fear grabbed at her heart and made her stomach clench. She took that as a bad sign. "Come let us sit and eat, I'm sure you are starving."

* * *

Brunch was going very smoothly. Raoul chatted on amiably about business, and going ons on his side of town, asking Christine for her thoughts and opinions every now and then. It was as they were sitting there sipping their tea when Christine noticed something different. Normally they would chat, eat, and then she would drink tea, Raoul would read the morning news, and they would discuss any note worthy items. Yet today, there was no paper.

"Raoul, where is your paper?" Christine asked, setting down the fine china cup to look better at the man seated across from her. She noticed his Adam's apple bob nervously

"Oh, I'm sorry Christine, I read it already. I didn't even realize." He avoided her eyes.

Christine knew he was lying. Raoul was nothing if not predictable. Instead of saying anything she simply nodded, "Oh. Well, was there anything interesting?"

Raoul shook his head, "No, not really. Just another day."

The tension hung heavy in the air. They both knew it was not just another day. Christine felt a sadness tear at her heart as she thought back to that night when so much changed.

"Christine, you know I love you more than anything, don't you?" Raoul broke the heavy silence, his hand making its way across the table to find hers.

Now it was she who avoided his eyes, "Yes, of course. You always have." Christine didn't have to fake her smile. Ever since childhood, she knew of Raoul's adoration for her. She felt his fingers run over the diamonds in her ring and she suddenly felt the urge to cry.

"And yet, you resist me..." Was it a question, or a statement? Christine couldn't be sure, but she brought her eyes up to meet the crystal blue of her fiance's.

"Oh Raoul, that's not true..." She started to argue, but she stopped. There was no point. She stood up and walked over to his side and behind his chair so she could wrap her arms around his neck, her mouth close to his ear, "You will always be the boy that rescued my scarf." And she knew she meant the reassurance she whispered, she sealed it with a small kiss to his temple.

Raoul's eyes closed as he felt the intimate contact. It had become so rare now for Christine to show him any real affection. He felt her slipping away from him, and yet he was unsure of how to reel her back in. He was no fool, he knew that she was stalling on the wedding. Without the pressure of being dragged away underground, there was no grand hurry for her to marry him. She did not need to be whisked off and rescued anymore.

"I'm going to go sit in the observatory, please come join me." Christine whispered as she released her grip and walked out. Although not as routine as reading the paper together, they would often sit in the garden when it was warm out, or the observatory when it was colder. Since it was January, it was the latter.

"I'll be in momentarily Lotte." Raoul called after her, although she already knew he would follow.

* * *

When Raoul entered the room, he knew things were not well. Christine sat facing him, her dark eyes smoldering. On the small table to her right, sat to morning paper. Raoul felt his heart sink.

"Christine-" He started, but she quickly cut him off.

"Don't. You lied. How stupid do you believe me to be? How could you think I would not find out?" She never raised her voice, but her tone reflected her pure anger.

"I didn't want to upset you..." He tried once again to explain, but Christine's humorless laugh stopped him.

"Oh, well since you had such noble intentions I suppose I should just forget and forgive." Christine shook her head as she stood up, grabbing the newspaper in a death grip. She stalked over to her fiance and shoved it in to his chest. "I will be ready at seven o'clock. We are going to that gala. Think of the gossip if we were to miss it..." She didn't wait for any argument. She didn't say goodbye to her fiance. She simply left the room and went back to her own to start preparing herself for the upcoming evening.

It wasn't every day that an opera house re-opened.

* * *

**AN: Hello! I have been absent for such a long time, I know. But I have updated Glass Castle and finally started on this story, which has been in my mind for so very long now. Hopefully you all enjoy it, and for my readers from G.C you can forgive my much too long departure!**


	2. Resurrections

Chapter II – Resurrections

The rest of the day seemed to float by in a haze. Christine bathed, picked out her outfit and matching accessories, changed her mind on her outfit, which lead to new accessories, fiddled with hairstyles for far too long and before she realized it, she heard the great Grandfather clock that had been in the de Chagny family for generations tole out a warning that she had fifteen minutes left before Raoul would arrive.

_I'm sure he's already here, pacing and moaning to his sister... _Christine thought bitterly as she started lining her eyes with dark kohl

"I just don't understand why she would want to go!" Raoul exclaimed to Patricia. He cut a sharp figure in his emerald jacket, his golden hair oiled and pulled back. He knew he wore his hair slightly longer than what was fashionable, but he liked it none the less.

Patricia sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position on the settee. She would not be attending tonight's festivities. She was far too old, mature, for such social events. Instead, she limited her outings to strolls with girlfriends in the park or intimate dinner parties with people she actually could stand to be around for more than five minutes. "I think it was silly to hide the whole ordeal in the first place..." She murmured as she bent to pick up the orange tabby cat that had silently slunk over, looking for some affection.

"I couldn't agree more..." Christine's voice answered from the top of the stairs. Immediately both of the de Chagny siblings turned to face her, and she could heard their sharp gasps of surprise.

To say she was a vision would be an understatement. She wore a tight gown made entirely of a red crushed velvet, so dark it was almost black, which only made her dark hair and eyes stand out all the more. The way the dress clung to her made her movements look fluid, as if she was gliding. The neckline was daring, scalloped and low enough to show her delicate collar bones, and the long sleeves exposed her shoulders. Christine chose only to wear a pair of Ruby earrings Raoul had given to her last Christmas to accent her outfit.

"Shall we go?" Christine asked shortly as she wrapped her snow white fur around her neck.

Not a word was spoken the entire carriage ride. Christine refused to meet Raoul's eyes and instead fixed her view out the window, although it was much too dark for her to really make anything out. It was very silly of her to still be mad about his lie from earlier, but yet, she found she was. She knew he honestly had wanted to keep from upsetting her, in all of the time that had passed they had brought up the opera house and _that night_ enough times to count on one hand, but that didn't help lessen her anger in the least. The fact that she knew he was miserable with himself for being caught in a lie did make her feel a little better, however petty it made her.

Soon, she saw the golden lights and heard the commotion of the other carriages and she knew they were there. She felt her stomach tighten. Had two years really passed? Perhaps this was a bad idea. Could she face this place? What was the Opera Populaire without...him?

"Christine, no one is forcing you to do this..." Raoul's tone was barely above a whisper but Christine jumped like he had yelled.

"O-of course not...I want to go." Her reply sounded weak even to her ears, and she finally turned her head from the window and caught Raoul's intense gaze. He was trying to read her, and she was determined to hide her nervousness.

The outside had not changed much. You could see the lighter gray of the new stones, they clashed terribly against the old weathered stones that survived the fire. Christine turned her brown eyes to the sky and squinted against the darkness, trying to see if those menacing gargoyles had survived the renovation. _Are you looking for gargoyles, or the flutter of his cape?_

As soon as she walked inside, she had to put nearly all her weight on Raoul's arm to keep from fainting. Here was her home! Yet...different. What had once been almost gaudy with all its golden opulence was now transformed. The floor was a stormy gray marble, polished to a mirror shine. The grand staircase remained, but the carpet was now a rich navy blue. The ceiling had been painted with a biblical scene, a trend that seemed to flow over from Italy and Rome.

"I have to go say hello, will you be alright for just a moment?" Raoul whispered in Christine's ear. She did not take her eyes away from the scene before her as she gave him just the tiniest of nods.

She accepted a glass of champagne and made her way further into the ballroom, her eyes jumping from one detail to the next. All of those golden statues were gone, and in their places, angels carved entirely from stone. Christine moved closer to inspect one. Each crease and crevice was perfect, every single feather in their wings looked lifelike. It was their faces that captured Christine's interest, for on every single statue, a black silk blindfold covered their eyes, and yet, their expression were still so easy to read. Sorrow.

"Beautiful, no?" A friendly, yet unfamiliar voice, sounded next to her. Christine immediately dropped her gaze from the angel in front of her and onto the man at her side. He was a couple inches taller than her, but since she was only 5"4 that was hardly saying much, and he had a mess of red curls, twinkling green eyes and a look that reminded her of a someone who had just heard a joke and was not finished laughing quite yet. She took an immediate liking to him.

"Yes...magnificent. I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met, I'm Mad-" Christine started and raised her hand

"Mademoiselle Daae, your reputation precedes you." He finished for her as he bowed and lightly kissed her gloved knuckles. "I am Monsieur Harold Zidler, the proud owner of the new and improved Opera Populaire."

Christine felt herself blush at his knowledge of her. What reputation of her was talking about? Was it the mad, grief stricken child who was the mistress of a murderous genius? Or perhaps he knew her as the harlot who slept with the patron to steal the lead role? Maybe even he knew her because of her father's talent, although he appeared too young for that. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." She replied politely.

"Ah, I am the lucky one. To be meeting one the most gifted song birds of our time. Although, it seems this little bird allowed herself to be caged up before far too early."

Christine felt her blush deepen at his bold words, surely he knew why her career had ended? After all, he did buy the ruins her betrayal had left behind. She was unsure how to respond, all of the etiquette training Patricia had sent her to failing miserably.

Monsieur Zidler surprised her further when he gave a healthy chuckle at her obvious lack of response, "Oh Mademoiselle please do not look so horrified! I mean no offense! Come, let me show you more of my Opera House?" He asked as he offered her his arm, which she took.

Zidler showed her around the rest of the ballroom, pointing out the new electric lighting fixtures and more modern design. He bragged about how all the artwork was one of a kind, although he never mentioned his artist's name ("I'm not ready for my talent to be stolen from me"), and then he led her to the back corridors and the stage.

Christine felt as if her heart would stop entirely. There was the same stage she had spent nearly half her life. The same stage that she sang _His_ opera on. The audience area had obviously been redone, and Christine immediately noticed the lack of a chandelier above. Her eye did catch on the patron boxes, one in particular. For a moment her breath hitched, watching for the tell tale sway of the curtains, or for the dark glint of his eyes, but there was neither. "Oh Monsieur Zidler, thank you for showing me this..."

"I am proud to show if off! If you look over here you can see how we managed to widen the wings..." The cheery man rambled on but Christine heard none of it, the music in her mind was too loud. It spoke of longing, pure, unbridled, all consuming passion, but then it also whispered of loving and the most devout devotion.

"Monsieur, do you think it would be possible for me to take a quick peek at the dressing room?"

With his back to her, Christine failed to notice the knowing smiling on the new manager's face, "Of course!"

Christine had to keep her hands clutched to her chest to control their shaking. Monsieur Zidler had led her backstage, which for the most part looked how she remembered, brown and cramped and boring, all the way to the Diva's dressing room before leaving her alone, "I trust you remember your way back..." were his parting words. With a deep breath, she opened the door and allowed the memories to overwhelm her.

This room was where she had stepped through that mirror and changed the course of her life. This was the room when her Angel turned into a flesh and bone man. But it wasn't this room. This room was decorated in yellows and creams, not garish pink, and instead of her blood red roses there was a vase full of wildflowers sitting on the dresser. And yet, the giant, gilded mirror remained. Christine walked up to it and placed her finger against the glass and felt her heart sink when she could see a gap between her finger and her reflection. It wasn't double sided. It was a new mirror. A real mirror. There was no spring mechanism. There was no masked man waiting to take her to his world devoted to Music. Suddenly, she felt tears sting her eyes.

"It really is over now..." She heard herself choke out.

"_Christine_!" An excited voice exclaimed, causing Christine to quickly wipe her eyes and whirl around. "It is you!"

Christine was barely able to open her mouth before arms were tightly around her neck, "Meg?"

The petite blonde pulled back, her smile wide, "You were the last person I expected to see here tonight! My God, you look amazing!"

Christine felt her smile break out as soon as she saw her old friend. Her golden hair was done up in an elaborate bun and she had on a pale blue dress, and she was just as pretty as always. "So do you! Oh, how I've missed you! What are you doing here?"

Meg laughed, "Christine, I _work_ here, I'm the new instructeur du corps de ballet! What are you doing here? I thought you and Raoul were happily living in America!" Meg replied.

Christine's brow furrowed. "Why would we be living in America?"

Meg's smile faded as she met Christine's confusion with her own, "I tried visiting you not too long after...well, after everything happened, but I was told that you two had married and moved to America."

Christine felt her face drop in shock. Who had told her dearest friend such an obvious lie? "I'm sorry you were so misinformed...Raoul and I aren't even married..."

"Wow, we have so much to catch up on. Come on, lets return to the party and you can tell me about everything that has been going on for the past two years!"

With a backwards glance to the large golden mirror, Christine followed her old friend out of the dressing room.

Christine and Meg spent most of the night catching up. So much had transpired for the both of them. Meg had traveled to Italy and spent a year dancing, which is where she met her current beau, Alessio Costa, a very accomplished poet. She came back after a year and that's when her mother told her they were fixing up the opera house and not too long after that Harold Zidler came knocking on door and offered Madame Giry her old job back, but retirement suited the elder Giry so the offered was happily passed along to Meg, who in turn happily accepted it.

"Has there been any word of..." Christine whispered at one point in their conversation.

Meg swallowed hard as she shook her head, "No...obviously everyone has heard rumors and people still avoid the shadows, and I heard no builder would dare touch the under parts of the building, but I haven't seen or heard anything. I think Maman would have told me..."

The pair continued to chat and catch up and sip on champagne and all too soon Meg was called away by another acquaintance, but Christine made sure to give her Patricia's address and a promise that she did live there and would love to see her soon. After Meg's departure, Christine scanned the room briefly for her fiance, although she did not put much effort into it, and wasn't too disappointed when she spotted him in a corner with some business associates smoking cigars and engaged in some riveting debate. Christine downed the rest of her flute of champagne and decided to visit one last familiar location.

Her feet carried her purely off memory and before she knew it, she was pushing the heavy door to the roof open and breathing in the crisp, cold night air. She inhaled deeply and let the door slam behind her.

"Ah, so the gargoyles remain..." She mused out loud to herself as she walked forward. She remembered being young and finding them so frightening. Now, they comforted her. She lowered herself at the base of one and sat on the cold stone, thinking back to the night she first saw her Angel.

_She had been crying. The other girls were teasing her, calling her an orphan. She ran to the roof to get away from their cruel words. As she sat shivering with tears running down her face he approached her._

"_Are they teasing you again?" The man was just a dark figure against the moonlight, and his voice was so deep, yet so soothing, she didn't even think to wonder how he knew she was being teased in the first place._

_She gave a loud sniffle and nodded her head. He offered her his handkerchief. "People can be so cruel, no?" _

"_I just miss my Papa." She had sobbed._

"_I know. I hear you in the chapel." His voice continued to wash over her and sooth her, like a salve on a burn._

"_Are you my Angel? Did Papa send you?"_

"_Yes."_

"How naïve..." Christine again spoke aloud to herself, amazed at how innocent and trusting she had been. And yet, here she was, fully grown, still sitting up on a roof, wishing for an Angel to appear and tell her everything would be alright. With an aggravated sigh she shoved herself off the ground and stormed over to the door, yanking on the handle and nearly stumbling back when it opened as soon as her hand landed on it.

"Oh! Pardon me..." Christine exclaimed as a nearly entwined couple stumbled out onto the roof.

"Watch it..." A female voice slurred.

Christine was glad for the darkness of the night because it hid the blush she felt sting her cheeks. She dropped her head and stepped to the side to let the amorous pair pass when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She raised her eyes just in time to catch the eyes of the man. It was so very dark on the roof, but for just a moment she swore she recognized the way they smoldered...

"Come on..." The obviously inebriated woman purred as she tugged on the man's arm and before Christine knew it, they had walked by.

With a chill that had nothing to do with the cold, Christine made her way back inside and to Raoul where she told him she was tired and ready to go.


	3. Commitments

Chapter III – Commitments

It had been three days since the reopening of the Opera Populaire, although this day was the first the snow that had started sometime during the party had stopped. Christine was sitting comfortably by the roaring fire, mending a handkerchief, when one of the many maids gently knocked on the door of the spacious living room.

"Mademoiselle, there is a woman here to see you. She said her name was-"

"Meg Giry?" Christine finished for the woman, smiling when the maid nodded yes. "Please show her in."

Christine set her needlework down and stood up. In a matter of moments her blonde friend entered the room, snowflakes still melting in her hair and her cheeks still red from the winter air. "I told you I would come visit!" Meg happily called as she wrapped Christine in a hug.

Christine felt her smile grow even wider. "I never doubted you! Please, sit down, I'll send for tea."

Meg's eyes twinkled as she sat, "You'll send for tea? If I didn't know any better, I would say you were born and raised to be a Viscountess..."

Christine felt her face pale and she searched Meg's eyes for malice, yet she found none. Could the blonde really not know the insult she had just tossed her way? She must not, for Christine saw no ill will in her sparkling blue depths. "Oh Meg, don't say such things..."

Meg rose an eyebrow, "What? Christine, it is not such a bad thing to be considered ladylike. Noble even..."

Christine sighed, "I know...but this all feels so very wrong. I was brought up in a cottage, and then after Papa, in the opera house. To have people wait on me hand and foot, to have to worry about appearances and fashion...you wouldn't believe some of the things the 'etiquette' instructor that Patricia hired said."

Mention of an etiquette instructor caused Meg to erupt in a fit of laughter, something that Madame Dorelle would have deemed unladylike and thus, unacceptable. "Oh that is too much! What these blue bloods will spend money on!" The blonde took a deep breath to control herself and met Christine's dark eyes with a much more somber expression, "But since you mentioned it, I do have a note from the opera house..."

Christine's eyes went as wide as dinner plates and she nearly choked on the sip of tea she had just taken, "A-a n-note?"

Meg realized her unfortunate word choice as soon as she saw her friend's reaction and quickly dug out a plain white letter from her purse, "Oh, I suppose 'letter' would have been a better way to put it. Here," she handed the letter to her friend and waited, "I think it's from Monsieur Zidler."

Christine felt her heart slow back to its normal pace. How quickly her mind's eye had conjured images of ominous looking notes sealed with a red skull. "I wonder what he would want..." Christine murmured as she opened the letter. For the second time in just under a minute, she felt her heartbeat race.

Meg sat patiently as Christine read the letter, her own heart jumping when she saw the shocked expression cross the brunette's countenance. After a moment of silence, Meg's curiosity could no longer be contained, "Well!"

Christine jumped, as if she had forgotten Meg was seated next to her. She lowered the letter to her lap and turned to look at the fireplace, unable to meet her friend's eager eyes, "He has asked me back to the Populaire..."

To most people, Harold Zidler was the very definition of 'jolly.' From his kinky red orange hair, to his often flushed cheeks and slightly 'pronounced' belly, he seemed like the kind of person other people wanted to talk to. He could often be found whistling or humming a friendly tune and he made it a practice to greet friends and acquaintances alike with genuine warmth and affection. People as amiable as Harold Zidler were not often found in show business. What most people did not seem to notice was that under Monsieur Zidler's often cheery green eyes and hearty chuckle was a shrewd businessman.

It was rather unknown to the general populace how or why Harold Zidler decided to save the condemned opera house from it's certain destruction post-fire. In fact, little was known about Harold Zidler. He was fairly new to the Paris scene, he seemed to arrive from England just over a year ago. He quickly rose in the social ranks, and with his recent acquisition of one of the most famed opera houses of Europe, his standing continued to flourish.

In fact, he was still going over his morning mail in his office, much of it from the most notable Parisians when a man entered, unannounced. Zidler did not look up from the card he was reading, "Ah! I was wondering when I would hear from you again. I trust all is well?"

"As long as everything is going along as planned, then all is well." The man answered simply.

Zidler did raise his eyes at this, "Such a dramatic response to such a light question. A true member of the arts! Come, will you not sit? The opening gala was a wondrous success and I have not yet had a chance to go over the projected revenue with you!"

The man shook his head. "Non. I care not for the numbers of my business, that is why I hired you. You will continue to act as my figure head and accountant, I will focus on the artistic aspects. Have we received word from our Diva yet?"

Zidler chuckled. When his business partner found him in his floundering 'cabaret' he had been most eager to cut his losses and get out of town before his debtors, or the police, came calling. How was he to have known he was partnering up with such a determined and demanding individual? "The letter was just delivered this morning. The weather has been most unfortunate. I did give her the deadline you decided on. All we can do now is wait."

Zidler wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he saw just the smallest flicker of a smile tug at his partner's face, "She will come."

"Raoul I am not a child!" Christine snapped angrily as she paced in front of her fiance's desk. After receiving her letter she quickly bade goodbye to Meg and took off for Raoul's townhouse just down the road from Patricia's. She showed him the letter, and he immediately forbade her from accepting Zidler's offer, which only enticed Christine all the more.

He was offering her the position of lead soprano. She would be the Diva of the Opera Populaire. Suddenly her childhood dream was within reach, and just as suddenly Raoul had snatched it away from her.

"Christine, absolutely not! It is forbidden! You may sing for me, or our guests in our home, but certainly not in front of all of Paris!" Raoul's voice was strained, although not raised. His ability to remain cool just infuriated Christine all the more.

"We are not married yet Raoul, I may still do as I please..." Christine hissed, although as soon as the words left her mouth and she saw the hurt fill Raoul's eyes she regretted it.

"I do not need to be reminded of your hesitance, I assure you." His words portrayed his anguish, yet still he did not raise his voice. A testament to his devotion, to be sure.

"I'm sorry, that was out of line." Christine felt herself waver, "Just let me have my dream. Just one season, we can be married at the end."

Raoul immediately raised his eyes, the intensity in which they searched hers almost tangible, "Do you promise? If I agree to let you perform, you will marry me as soon as the season ends?"

Christine had to close her eyes to escape his intensity, "I promise."

Raoul simply nodded his acceptance.

**Author's Note: Well, things are finally starting to go for this story. The chapters should start getting a little longer now that the set up is mostly finished. Also, please keep in mind that I have no beta. I do try my best to proof my work, but mistakes are easy to miss when you know what the words are supposed to say. If you like it, please review. It really does motivate me. And although I have a general plot and idea, this story is not set in stone, so any and all suggestions are welcome!**


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